


From Now On Our Merge is Eternal

by YouLookGoodInLeather



Series: Spring Bride!Cassian Universe [4]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 13:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11968770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouLookGoodInLeather/pseuds/YouLookGoodInLeather
Summary: Tamlin wants Lucien to summon Satan or some shit to go get Feyre back. Instead, they get Cassian The Sexy Ghost. More importantly: Lucien gets a new laptop.Nice.





	From Now On Our Merge is Eternal

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be serious but then crack happened. Will be added to whenever I need a fix of utter fluffy bullshit. 
> 
> Title from 'Cirice' by Ghost, who are entirely responsible for this turning into crack.

Like, Lucien was normally against summoning demons into the mortal plane, and most world-ending-shit like that. Most of the time though, Tamlin never cried. 

A crying Tamlin was a terrifying sight, especially when it was surrounded by photographs of his ex-girlfriend, Feyre, pinned  _ everywhere _ . As in, every single wall was covered with close ups of her face, or shady stalker photos taken through bushes. Tam had even gotten himself a T-shirt printed with her face and ‘HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL’ on the front. 

“Someone’s  _ kidnapped _ her, Lucien,” He’d wailed into his pint of Ben and Jerry’s. “I  _ need _ to find her.” 

“She literally left a note saying-”

“The kidnapper  _ obviously _ made her write that. She would never leave me for that… that monster.” 

Whilst Tamlin sobbed into the aforementioned ice cream, Lucien sneaked in a quick text reply to the monster in question. 

‘Yeah. He’s still not over her. Maybe don’t ask for her stuff back yet.’

“Who are you texting?” Tamlin sniffled, all puppy dog eyes and chocolate around his mouth. 

“Uh. I wasn’t. I was- googling.. vengeance spirits?” Lucien hoped he was drunk on grief enough to buy the bullshit. 

“What?” Tamlin demanded, throwing off his Feyre-Pattern duvet. Standing, he marched over to Lucien and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Lucien… Lucien, that’s  _ genius _ .” 

“What?” It was Lucien’s turn to sound stumped. 

“You summon a demon to kill her kidnapper, and problem solved.”

“There are… multiple issues with that statement, TimTam.” The least being the fact that there was no wrong to avenge. Feyre had warned him she’d leave  _ multiple times _ and had told him they were breaking up before she went off to Rhys’. Also: demons. 

“Lucien,” Tamlin said more sternly. “Are you or are you not my private witch for hire?” 

“I mean yeah, but-”

“But nothing. I am hiring you. For this,” he inhaled dramatically, “I’ll pay you a grand.” 

Okay, yeah, now Lucien was paying attention. Potentially ending the world was definitely worth getting that swanky new laptop he’d been eyeing. 

So that was the why he was doing the whole demon summoning routine, but the how was a little more… complicated. Especially since he had no intention of actually summoning one. But he had to put on a show for Tamlin; whom he’d already warned it  _ might _ not work. Thus, he had a nice salt pentacle drawn out on the grass already, some - kinda skanky - road kill placed at each of the four corners, and a couple of candles lit for spooky atmosphere reasons. 

“Make sure to keep back,” He yelled over to Tamlim, who was hunched over on a camping chair watching, with a nice mug of hot chocolate. “This could get messy.” 

“Yeah, for the kidnapper,” Tamlin shouted back, cackling at his own joke.

“I cannot believe I wasted so much good salt on this,” Lucien hissed under his breath. Fucking muggles. 

Clearing his throat, he clicked play on Itunes and put on some creepy beats, before picking up his book. It was just a copy of ‘The Great Gatsby’ he’d painted black but what Tamlin didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He began to read aloud. Or, more accurately, he began to read backwards. It sounded suitably ominous, and also Lucien would be lying if he claimed he didn’t enjoy pulling shit with Tamlin. 

Just as he got towards the top of the page and was preparing to grovel to Tamlin about it simply not working (and demand pay for the supplies anyway) things started going… wrong. Wrong was definitely a good descriptor for the situation. For starters, the salt pentacle started  _ glowing _ . 

Cutting the scene of Nick getting laid by a photographer short, Lucien shut up. Tam was on his feet, gazing in wonder as the glowing ramped up to blinding white shining. The flame of the candles ignited into unexpected flamethrowers, thunder roared overhead, birds fled from the surrounding forests, lighting cracked across the sky-

And then a naked dude was lying on the grass before them. 

The sky clearing and returning to cheery sunshine, the light revealed it to be no ordinary man. 

This dude was hot. 

“That’s it?” Tamlin said, suddenly beside Lucien and  _ in _ the circle. “That’s the demon?” Lucien really hoped not, else Tamlin would probably be about to be devoured. Again: fucking muggles. “It doesn’t look very demon-y.” 

There were many witty comebacks waiting to be said in response to that particular statement of idiocy, but Lucien was more concerned with something else: Had he just summoned Jay Gatsby? 

Immediately, he started compiling a mental list of questions to ask him, mainly: how  _ did  _ you make all that money? “Is it… asleep?”

“Unconscious, I think,” Lucien replied, wincing as Tamlin nudged the man with his foot. Next time he did this, he would make sure to educate Tamlin on how  _ not _ to treat potential members of the underworld. 

“Well,” Tamlin said with a sigh. “You’d better pick him up then. We can put him in the boot, take him back to mine, and get him on Feyre’s trail. Hopefully he’s better at this than he looks.”

Lucien didn’t get a chance to argue about how shutting a demon in the boot was a super bad idea, because Tamlin was already wandering back to the car. Sighing, he bent down to the man-demon/possible Jay Gatsby. He lived up to the descriptions; He really was hot. Maybe he was a demon. Lucien could imagine someone with a face like that seducing fair maidens into the depths of Tartarus. 

 

***

 

Long story short, it turned out the man was not a demon. Nor was he Jay Gatsby. He was just your everyday ghost/ghoul/spirit gig who’d been haunting about the forest and had unwittingly stumbled into the salt circle while it’d been being laid. 

His name was Cassian, and apparently, he was now eternally bound to Lucien: A suitably homoerotic outcome considering the source material he was summoned with. 

The situation had its plusses and minuses. For one, Lucien had got that grand,  _ and _ his nice new laptop. On the other hand, he also had a ghost following him around everywhere. A ghost he soon discovered to be very,  _ very _ annoying. 

“Oh my lord, how is coffee so good now? It never tasted like this for me,” Cassian rambled as they sat together at Lucien’s usual table, in his usual coffeeshop, doing his usual morning routine. 

“Welcome to the future,” Lucien muttered in response, trying to do his  _ actual _ job, as opposed to his fake job: getting his best friend to pay him to fuck about with magical shit. The fake job was somehow more effort than his real one, which consisted of editing for Witch Weekly like a civilised mortal. 

“And when did boys start getting so  _ hot?  _ Y’all dress nicely now and everything.”

“Societal pressures only continue to mount with increasing access to global communication and advertising.” Lucien had been answering questions about  _ the future _ all week and was starting to get pissy, but that was what you got for accidentally summoning a ghost from the civil war era. He’d given Cassian his old laptop for a reason, but the ghost had just cried ‘witchcraft!’ and thrown it in the trash. Lucien would have felt bad for him if he hadn’t caught him in hysterical laughter afterwards. ‘Good joke, yes?’ The ghost had asked. 

He did not make good jokes. He made very, very bad ones. Lucien had groaned more in the past seven days than he had in his entire life.  

“I was  _ trying _ to flirt with you,” Cassian sniffed haughtily, “but fine. Be all serious and smart.” 

“...I would appreciate it if you would not flirt with me.” That was another thing Cassian did a lot of, and unfortunately, he did it far too well. 

“Hey, it’s legal now. Let me enjoy my new liberties.” 

“Not if Trump has anything to say about it,” Lucien muttered. 

Narrowing his eyes, Cassian leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Ah yes, the orange man.” Tapping his fingers together, he thought for a moment. “Can a ghost be charged for murder?” 

“No. But I would get charged instead,” Lucien said tightly, because he honestly wouldn’t put it past this massive goofball not to assassinate the president. “Just leave it to the CIA, okay? If they can do Kennedy, they can definitely get away with murdering a talking cheeto.” 

“What is this cheeto you speak of?” 

Okay. Even Lucien couldn’t deny the ghost that one simply pleasure. “Tonight, my sweet summer ghost,” Lucien said softly, finally looking up from his laptop. “You shall find out.” 

 


End file.
